Life Through Photographs
by xNomii
Summary: Remus goes to visit Sirius grave for Christmas, visiting the past by browsing through old pictures.


**Title:** Story Through Photographs  
><strong>Author:<strong> xNomii  
><strong>Summary: <strong>Remus goes to visit Sirius grave for Christmas, visiting the past by browsing through old pictures.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M  
><strong>Pairing: <strong>Remus Lupin/Sirius Black  
><strong>Contains: <strong>Slash, nothing further, nothing explicit.  
><strong>Beta:<strong> Dark-Night-Sky  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I do not own Harry Potter or Christmas and no money is being made with this.

**A/N: **Okay first off, everyone, I wish you the most perfect Christmas I can wish you, and I hope you and your family and friends will have the best time of the year! My christmas present to you is this story, and I hope you will likei t! Reviews would be very much appreciated, but just to think people read this makes me happy as well!

* * *

><p><strong>Story Through Photographs<strong>

Wind caused the black robes to billow wildly, but the man didn't seem to mind as he made his way through the deserted street. The streetlights were flickering, but that had less to do with the fact they were not properly functioning and more with the air of magic that hung around the man. Electronics did not go well with magic.

The man kept walking, quickening his pace until he finally arrived at the alley he was looking for. He wasted no time in stepping inside, letting the darkness envelop and swallow him, effectively hiding him from whoever decided to walk past him on this ungodly hour.

A hand reached inside the dark brown robe and pulled out a fifteen inch vine wood wand. The man held the wand tightly in his left hand and then disappeared with a distant pop that was lost in the wind.

He reappeared again, this time in a graveyard. The man was not doing anything to prevent the mud from licking at his shoes and ragged robes, as they were of no value to him. He just kept on walking, the darkness surrounding him once more.

Then he reached a dimly lit, white building. Two torches were burning at the entrance, but they provided no warmth. He used both hands to slide open the heavy door, the noise it made was out of place in the silent graveyard. As soon as he stepped inside he pushed it shut again. One wave of the vine wood wand put out the torches, making it clear that he did not want to be disturbed.

Inside there were torching lit too, giving the room, despite the cold, a warm look. The walls were striped, dark red and bright gold, but in the dim light it was nearly impossible to make out the actual colours.

His shoes thudded melodically on the ground as he trotted forwards to the middle of the room. The sound echoed through the cold mausoleum. It was surprisingly comforting. Though it only lasted for a little while as it stopped when he stood still, and fell to his knees. His bones ached at the sudden movement, but the man did not seem to mind. His hand reached out to rest on a marble headstone, letting out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

His other hand disappeared inside his robes, pulling out a stack of photographs. The pictures were yellow, they had coloured over the ages. The edges were tattered and there were a few stains blotching the paper. One of them had a hole in the middle of the line where they had been folded in half, but the images were clear. The man placed the pictures on the ground in front of him and picked up the first one. The picture was nearly invisible, but when the man brought it up to his face the torch that lit the room fell upon the surface.

On the picture were three boys, they were dressed up as werewolves. The man who had come all the way here had been the one to take the picture. His name is Remus Lupin. The three boys on the picture are also known as Sirius Black, James Potter and Peter Pettigrew.

Even if the picture had been taken more than twenty years ago, Remus knew why his friends were dressed up as werewolves. He could even remember exactly how he felt when he had been taking the picture. The replaying of the memory in his mind and the fact that his memory was better than average helped with the remembering also.

The photograph was taken in second year, with James' camera. He had gotten it for his birthday, but he hadn't liked it at all. He had, however, noticed Remus' fascination with it, and given it to the werewolf as a gift. Remus wouldn't accept it at first, but James had insisted. This was first picture he had taken with it that he had actually kept. He had taken other ones, but they hadn't had much value.

This one, however, had.

It had been taken just before the annual Halloween party that was still held back then. His friends, his best friends, they had found out about Remus' condition three weeks previous. Remus had been so scared that they wouldn't want to be friends with him anymore. That he wouldn't be allowed to stay in the Gryffindor dorms anymore. He was a twelve year old werewolf, of course he was scared. And nervous.

But his friends hadn't rejected him, like he had feared would happen. They had been supportive. They had scolded Remus for thinking that they would ever abandon him for something as unimportant as this.

To show their support even more, they had dressed up as werewolves for Halloween. Remus had scolded them this time, for being insane, but secretly he had loved it. He had always kept the picture he had taken of them. And whenever he took a glance at it he knew, that even though he was a werewolf. Even though the ministry did not accept him. He always had friends that accepted him exactly for who he was.

Remus let a happy grin for on his face as he slowly folded the picture again. He carefully placed it in the pocket where they had been stacked before and then turned his attention to the second picture that was lying in front of him.

This one was taken by Peter, Remus remembered. On the photograph you saw him chasing a large black dog around. The dog had a book in its mouth and was running over the beds. Young Remus was trying his very best to catch it.

It was taken in fifth year. Sirius, James and Peter had only recently managed to control their Animagi form and showed it to Remus. The werewolf had been surprised, angry and most of all so very thankful. After the initial shouting match of how irresponsible it was to do such a dangerous thing, he had been absolutely speechless as he realized his friends had done something so big for him.

Sirius and James flaunted it whenever they got the chance after that. It was often Remus came back from the shower and then there were suddenly two large animals on the floor. It had made him jump three feet in the air the first time, but after that he had simply gotten used to it. He didn't mind it, because every time his friends had changed into their animal form, Remus had felt a great rush of gratitude towards them. He then hadn't thought it would ever go away, and he was sure of this now.

In the picture, Sirius had been bored, Remus remembered. And whenever Sirius got bored, Remus always was the one that ended up doing something with him. That time he hadn't been so keen on actually doing something, because he had been too caught up in his book. Sirius, being the inpatient Gryffindor he was, hadn't agreed of course, turning into his canine form and stole Remus' book. James had been in detention or something else, Remus couldn't exactly remember where the Potter had gone. He just knew he wasn't there because James' bed was unoccupied.

Peter had snapped the picture, laughing as he did so, and then quickly slipped out the dorm, afraid of being drawn into it, Remus had thought. After more than five minutes, Remus had finally managed to catch the large black dog and he had sent them both tumbling to the ground.

Sirius had changed back then, so that Remus was lying on top of him. The book was long forgotten, the dog had dropped it earlier, yet Remus had continued to try to catch the canine. They both had been panting heavily. Sirius had just been so close. And then before Remus could move Sirius had pressed their lips together.

It hadn't been Remus' first kiss, but it had been his best kiss. He still remembered exactly how he felt. It was hard to describe it; he had felt so many things at the same time. It had felt as if his blood was boiling, his bones were melting and his face was on fire. For how long they had kissed, Remus couldn't quite remember. He knew though, that when he had pulled away after what he thought to be long minutes, Sirius had grinned lazily at him.

"You have no idea for how long I have been wanting to do that," he had said. Remus doubted his mouth had ever been open so far, or his eyes had ever been so wide. He had stuttered incoherent words, not able to form normal sentences. Sirius had just laughed, then cupped Remus' face in his hand and rested his forehead on the werewolves'. "I've liked you since fourth year Remus. And I know you like me too, you talk in your sleep," here Remus had cursed for thinking he would be able to keep something from Sirius. And then before Remus had been able to react, Sirius had pressed their lips together again.

Remus was smiling as he thought back about it, before also folding that picture and putting it with the one that was already back in his pocket. They hadn't told anyone about their relationship. They didn't want Sirius brother to tell on him, and they were both slightly scared. It wasn't until Christmas in sixth year that something had happened.

Remus picked up the third picture, tilting it so the light was shining on it on the right places.

Two boys were in the middle of the picture. A dark haired one with a strong jaw on the left, in the process of throwing his arm around the shoulder of his sandy haired companion. A large scar adorned the Remus' left cheek, drawing all the way down into the collar of his shirt. Both of the boys in the picture were smiling widely. Sirius' arm that was moving to wrap around the werewolves shoulder didn't let go when it succeeded and proceeded to pull the other boy into a hug, and then the moving picture stopped and turned back to the beginning.

Remus didn't need the picture to remember what happened after. Sirius had drawn him into a hug, and James had dropped the camera, after he had given the thing to Remus in second year, he never developed much interest in photography, as soon as he had snapped the picture, too busy to get to the other side of the common room to catch Lily Evans under the mistletoe.

The werewolf had thought that he should pull away, but as soon as he tried that, Sirius only dragged him closer. "What are you doing? People are going to see!" Remus had hissed. He had struggled for only a moment, but when Sirius' arm encircled his waist and a hand reached out to rest on his cheek, thumb stroking lovingly over his lower lip.

"You are my boyfriend, are you not?" he had whispered, his voice soft enough so that only Remus could hear it. There werewolf had nodded mutely. "Well, it's Christmas. And I am sick and tired of hiding and lying. I am not doing it anymore. So I am kissing you, right now. And I don't care who sees us and want they think of it," he had whispered, breath had warmed Remus' face and made him blush.

Before Remus had registered what exactly had happened, warm lips had pressed against his own. He heard a gasp somewhere behind him, but when Sirius tongue had began to move, the world was dead to him. They had kissed for long minutes, not caring about anything but each other. When Sirius broke off the kiss, he had rested his forehead on Remus' and smiled.

"Merry Christmas Remus," he had whispered, before he had pulled back, turned Remus around in his arms so the werewolves back was moulded against his chest and he had turned to the Gryffindors that were gawking at them.

Sirius had stayed silent for a few minutes, and Remus had known that he had been searching for James' eyes in the crowd. Remus had done the same and he couldn't have stopped the relieved sigh he let out even if he had tried when he saw James, he had looked slightly dumbstruck and surprise was clear in his gaze, but when he finally did close his mouth, he was grinning widely. Remus heard Sirius' sigh of relief and then the deep chuckle that followed in his ear and then the Animagus spoke up.

"Remus Lupin is my boyfriend. We're dating. You are probably going to see us kiss more often. Does anyone have a problem with that?"

Of course, nobody had said anything, and then a few of them promptly started clapping, others, including James, had wolf whistled, causing a blush to warm Remus' cheeks. The werewolf had felt Sirius grin against his cheek and then he was turned around and lips were on his once more. Not that Remus had minded. He hadn't minded at all.

Yes, Remus remembered that day as if it was yesterday. The memory had never faded in the werewolves mind.

The man brought up his thumb and stroked it over the picture tenderly, before folding it again and placing it safely back in his pocket, adding it to the two already there. He turned to the next one, picking it up from the ground, scraping his knuckles over the cold ground while doing so. They were already bruised and the skin was slightly torn. Remus doubted that they would heal any time soon, because every time they had nearly healed he somehow broke the skin again. Remus tore his attention away from his knuckles and turned to the photograph he was holding.

This picture held four men, now too old to be qualified as boys. Lily had taken it for them; it was taken at their wedding. All of them were dressed in the same suit, though James was the only one with a white tie. Sirius, Remus and Peter all had on a black one. She had used Remus' old camera, the man had taken it with him to take pictures of the wedding itself. But Lily had insisted to capture them all on a photograph as well. The pictures Remus had taken at the wedding were safely kept in an album, but the werewolf had kept this one himself.

He watched as the scene in the picture enfolded. James proceeded to give Peter a knuckle sandwich as Sirius was busy holding Remus, who was trying to get out of the picture frame, not wanting to be captured on camera. They were all laughing, and they looked happy, despite Remus' struggling. His features turned happy immediately the longer he stared at the photograph, eyes twinkling with pleasure as he thought back about those times.

They had been happy. The picture had been taken a few months before James and Lily had been murdered by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was the last picture of the four of them together. After that, there never was an opportunity again. Remus had been heartbroken. Three of his friends were dead, and the fourth one had been the one who had killed them. Or so he thought.

It had been twelve years and a few months until he finally learned the truth. Twelve years of endless torture. Nightmares and each full moon had been worse than the one before. The wolf in him had gotten used to the companions, and when they weren't there anymore, the inflicted violence on himself got even worse. But finally, after twelve whole years of his life he learned the truth.

Sirius hadn't been a killer. Peter wasn't dead. Peter _had_ been a killer. It had been a lot to take in. It had been hard, but he managed. Remus Lupin always managed. He always knew what to do and what to say. This situation not an exception. Even if he knew, he didn't always succeed. And Peter was gone before they could hand him in. But that didn't matter. Because Remus now knew the truth. And the truth was what mattered. All that mattered.

His feelings for Sirius had never fully disappeared. He had tried to get rid of them, when he found out what Sirius did, or what Remus thought Sirius had done. But he never completely succeeded. It had been impossible. And then, after twelve years and a few months, he had had Sirius back. It had been absolutely exquisite to finally be back in the arms of the man he loved.

Remus sighed and folded this picture too, setting it in the pocket on the inside of his robes. His knees started to ache so the changed position, now sitting on the ground, his legs sprawled out in front of him. He was sitting next to the white headstone and picked up the last picture.

It was Remus' favourite picture. He could never grow tired of watching this. He wasn't sure though, if it was his favourite purely because of what was on it, or because he wasn't on it himself. Remus hated himself in pictures, but one glance at the photograph in question made him decide that it was purely because of what was on it.

A naked Sirius with a red satin bow wrapped around his manhood certainly was a sight to behold. Especially when the dark haired man winked saucily at the camera and trusted his hips upwards ever so slightly. To a stranger it wouldn't have been visible, the careful movement of the pale hips. But Remus had been there when it had happened, he did catch the movement, every time he looked at the picture he saw it.

The werewolf had taken the picture himself. It had been quite a surprise. The picture was only taken last year, at Grimmauld place. In Sirius' bedchambers. It had been the dark haired man's Christmas Gift to Remus of that year. "Because I can't get out the house to get you a real one," Sirius had told him.

Remus had been astounded, pleasantly surprised, and instantly hard. But before he had crawled onto the bed to have his wicked way with the man that lay there so exposed and ready for him he had snapped the picture. "To capture the moment I never want to forget," he had murmured. He had been so glad he had kept the old thing at that moment. He had been certain Wizards developed newer ones, but Remus had never bothered to look into it. He had liked the one he already had, and it had still worked perfectly back then. Even now, fourteen years after he had gotten it, it still worked. Might be a bit slow, but it worked. Then he had set the camera carefully on the table and walked over to the bed to stake his claim.

Even that memory, which was one of so many, was fresh in Remus' mind. It had been too painful to think of it at first, impossible. He just pushed it away, busying himself with every little thing he could find and could distract him from thinking.

People would've thought Remus knew how to handle loss. He'd lost both his parents when he was seventeen. He lost two of his friends at age twenty-one. He lost one friend to the dark side at age thirty-three. And then, at age thirty-five, he lost his best friend and lover.

Yes, Remus might've known how to handle loss, but even he didn't know how to handle this. But he had to be strong. For the order. For Harry. The mourning came after. The acceptance came later.

The first full moon after Sirius' death had been Remus' worst one ever. Never had he been so close to death before. It even beat his first full moon. It had been his own fault, entirely his own fault. He had been too distracted by the death of his best friend that he forgot. He forgot to take his potion. The wolf in him channelled his emotions, the grief, the pain. There had been no voice in the back of his head to stop him. Nor a large black dog to keep him occupied.

He had been all alone. The wolf had slashed at himself, bitten all the skin it could reach and threw itself at the wall until it passed out. The unconsciousness was the only thing that had saved Remus, had he been conscious, he would have killed himself without a doubt.

Molly had found him the next morning, bruised, broken and covered in dry and wet blood. She had healed him to the best of her ability, but there was only so much she could do. Werewolf venom did not go well with magic. Remus had not inflicted new scars on himself for two years, but after this night another scar adorned his face. Thinking about it made the man lift his hand and trail down the scar with a finger. It crossed over the old scar that had been already on his face and stopped at his collarbone. Remus' hand fell away from his shoulder and he forced the memory from his mind. He did not want to think about that right now. It was not the right time.

He was in peace with it now, the loss, for as far as that was possible. It was hard, and he missed his friends and _his_ Sirius every single day. But the aching dulled by time. It was still there, especially on the days around the full moon. But Remus had other friends too, and people that were there for him. He was okay most of the time. And he wasn't at some others.

But that was okay too, because one didn't need to be okay all the time.

Remus took one last glance at the photograph and the closed his eyes and a small smile formed on the man's face, making him look ten years younger in an instant. The scars that marred his face and body made him look old and tired, but they seemed to disappear when the man smiled.

The werewolf folded the last picture as well and put it back with others. A hand reached up to brush through his hair and he was silent for mere minutes. Thinking about every victim of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but his thoughts were mostly reserved for Sirius himself. They never found a body for Sirius, so they made a monument for him instead. It was simple yet boisterous, just like Sirius would have liked. Placed in a Muggle graveyard where neither You-Know-Who nor any other Death Eater would ever found it.

_In memory of  
><em>_Sirius Orion Black_

_A son, a brother  
><em>_A friend, a lover  
><em>_He will be greeted by many  
><em>_He will be missed by more_

_December 24__th__, 1959  
><em>_June 18__th__, 1996_

"Merry Christmas Sirius," Remus whispered, and then he pressed his lips to the cold marble. He rested his forehead against it and closed his eyes, blinking away tears that were threatening to fall.

Some times, it was okay not to be okay.


End file.
